DESOLATE and lone
All night long on the lake
Where fog trails and mist creeps,
The whistle of a boat
Calls and cries unendingly,
5
Like some lost child
In tears and trouble
Hunting the harbor's breast
And the harbor's eyes.
Lost by Carl Sandberbg
Chicago Poems
1916
Pain.
1Creeping silently up Tomoe's bound legs, it began to lick at her bruised thighs, forcing her up from the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness. (Where....am....I....?) Sooty lashes fluttered weakly, then opened, slowly revealing obsidian hued eyes that were dark and haunted, the delicate skin surrounding them torn and bruised from countless blows to the face. (Why.....am.....I....here....?) Her sleep deprived mind was rusty with weariness, allowing only the most fragmented of images to seep through the cobwebby mess of memories.
She could recall lying in bed, a warm body atop hers, the taste and smell of Kenshin permeating her senses, reminding her briefly of the better things that life could offer a woman. (He...told me.....he loved me.....) Forgetting that she was half naked, lying face down in the snow, and covered with her own dried blood, Tomoe pressed a trembling hand to her bruised cheek, remembering fondly the awkward confession from the red headed man slayer, and how she too, in her own shy way had returned the sentiment, her body showing her devotion more than words ever could. (....I told him.....I loved him as well......that...I...always would....) Her pale fingers, drifted downwards, lingering on froze, split lips that had once been smooth and shapely, pretending that the caress came from her lover.
(I never wanted it to end....) Tomoe rolled painfully onto her back, the compacted snow drifts biting into her bruised shoulder blades. (But end it did...) As the weak winter moon had risen above the Chicago skyline, hard eyed men had kicked down the flimsy brothel door, filling the winter air with vulgar threats and the acidic stench of spent gunpowder. There had been eight of them at first, eight ruthless men drunk with the urge to murder and destroy. In seconds, five of them were dead, their eyes and mouths forever widened with shock at the inhuman speed and power of their slender adversary.
Tomoe coughed softly, her blood flecked lips at odds with the soft dusting of snow that still graced her cheekbones and chin. (I begged him to leave me....to escape.....to survive.....) Tears welled up, spilling gracelessly down battered cheeks, bathing her ravaged face with salty warmth. (He refused....) She could barely recall Kenshin pushing her frantically down a narrow hallway, shielding her body with his own as the remaining gangsters opened fire upon them. Fragmented images assaulted her, forcing her to recall the sound of gunshots, feeling Kenshin stumble behind her, his violet eyes going wide with pain as he collapsed..the triumphant shouts of their assailants....the lecherous expressions of the men as they defiled her, their breath rank and bodies heavy.
(I suppose that he's dead....) A dull, frozen sort of ache began to consume her, filling her battered body, numbing her to everything but the concept of his loss. (....Kenshin.....) She sighed softly and stared up at the grey winter sky, noticing for the fist time that a slight snow was beginning to fall. She gave a sad, resigned smile as the delicate snowflakes stuck her face, coating her lashes and nose, clinging to the dried blood and tears. (...It won't be long now…) Pressing a trembling hand against her bleeding abdomen, she exhaled weakly, watching her breath freeze in the bitterly cold air, transforming into icy tendrils of vapor that twisted and turned as they ascended to heaven.
She could hear footsteps in the snow...footsteps that surely belonged to some faceless, mindless monster who would certainly finish what the other gangsters had started. (Let them....do their worst.....) Tomoe closed her eyes and patiently waited, almost anticipating the brutal violence that would turn into blessed oblivion. (.....they can't hurt me anymore......) Several branches rustled nearby, a frozen tree twig cracking under the weight of her unknown assailant. (....than they already....have.....)
Evergreen branches slowly parted, revealing not the muscular form of a gangster, but the thin silhouette of a child. With feral caution, the boy emerged from the safety of the trees, his hands and feet bare and bleeding, the tips of the toes a dangerous waxy white. "Tomoe?" Enishi whispered as he crept towards the nightmare that had once been his beautiful sister half praying, half dreading that the one most dear to him would respond.
(It can't end like this…she can't be dead…I won't allow it! Not after all I've gone through to fine her!) Closer and closer he crept to the black haired woman covered in blood. He was shivering, half starved and shaking, his emaciated frame burning with fever. For days, he had followed the trail of his sister, living off of the charity of strangers as well as the more meager offerings that he was able to scrounge from the rancid garbage bins that lined the city alleys.
"En…Enishi?" A woman's voice, soft and sad filtered through his half frozen senses, igniting white hot hope within him. (She's alive! It's not too late after all!)
Nearly delirious with joy, the small boy stumbled towards his sister. "Tomoe!" He tripped on a tree root, his half frozen feet catching on the rough, frozen bark, and fell.
"Enishi…don't come closer…" Tomoe whispered raggedly as she struggled to cover her exposed chest. "I want you…to go back home…go back to Papa….." She swallowed weakly, trying to keep back the blood that was welling up in the back of her throat. (I want you to go before you see me…)
"No! I won't leave you, I won't! " Clawing at the icy earth, Enishi crawled towards his battered sister, shutting out his pain, his hunger, his fear...focusing only on getting to her...saving her....making her smile. "It's gonna be okay. I'll keep you safe...make everything better..." After what seemed like an eternity to his lonesome mind, he was finally kneeling by her side, cradling her bruised hand against his chest.
"I found you." Enishi forced himself to smile brightly as he tried to smooth back Tomoe's snarled hair. "We're together again." Ignoring the horrific bruises that covered her bound thighs, forgetting the angry, red welts that marred the whiteness of her stomach and breasts, he forced his sister to sit up, supporting to her failing body against his youthful frame. "I'm gonna get you untied and then we're going to go home so I need you to try and stay awake! C'mon Sis...please try....try for me, okay?"
(Oh...Sweetheart.....I'm so sorry......) Tomoe gazed up into her brother's cold, haunted face , seeing in his turquoise eyes enough agony and anger to last a hundred lifetimes. (....so...terribly sorry....) "Enishi. I want you....to go....right now..." She closed her eyes and began to cough painfully, unable to keep her throat clear any longer. "Please....it's not safe...."
"No!" Enishi shook his head frantically as he struggled to cut through the blood soaked knots with a dull paring knife that he had stolen for their home. "Don't you dare send me away! I'm here to take you home!" Clutching her by the shoulders, his little hands began to shake, not with fear or cold, but with fury. "I need you Tomoe! You've got to come back with me! Please!"
Tomoe cried out in agony, the jarring motion setting her stomach on fire. "It's too late." Trying not to retch, she collapsed onto her bloody side. "Enishi...you've got to listen to me...I've been shot....there's nothing you can do for me..."
"NO!" Enishi screamed, forgetting in his panic where he was. "I won't leave you here alone!" He caught his sister by her bound hands and tugged hard at the frozen rope, trying to force a measure of his indomitable will into her failing body. "Get up, right now!"
(They're going.....to hear him.....) It was instinct that gave her strength. (.....I can't let them find him......) Clenching her teeth against the fiery pain, Tomoe struggled to sit up, to protect the child at her side. (.....can't let them hurt......my....brother.....) "All right Nishi....I'll try." She smiled weakly at her sibling, thankful that she'd managed to forestall a tantrum. "Just promise me....that if something....happens...that you'll run away....please....promise me that you won't let them get...you...."
"I promise!" Enishi nodded, crossing his fingers behind his back. (I promise that I'll stay with you no matter what happens....) Carefully, he helped his sister sit back up, then once again began to struggle with the thick ropes, unaware that he…and the one he loved best were being watched.
"Are you sure this is the place?" Standing small against the impressive backdrop of the Chicago skyline, the policeman carefully scanned the peaceful cemetery, his sharp ears and sharper eyes detecting no trace of activity amidst the granite headstones and marble mausoleums that littered the pristine snowscape.
"I'm sure of it." The second officer replied, releasing a plume of acrid cigarette smoke into the freezing night air.
(Of course you are…why did I even bother asking?) A boyish smile graced the lips of the first officer, making him appear far less dangerous than he really was. "Do you think he's still alive?" Effortlessly, the small man leapt over the wrought iron fence that surrounded the sacred ground, landing silently on the other side.
"I do." The taller man followed suit, then crept soundlessly forward towards a large cluster of evergreen trees that graced the left side of Graceland Cemetery.
The smaller policeman nimbly navigated around hidden grave markers and neglected headstones, occasionally blowing on his hands to keep them warm. "And the girl?"
For the space of a minute there was no sound from his partner, only the smooth inhalation of breath and the subsequent exhalation of tobacco tinged air. "For her sake, I hope the end came quickly."
"How tragic." The shorter officer paused, his ageless brown eyes fixing on the glass covered statue of a little girl a short distance away. (From all accounts Miss Yukishiro was a kind, good girl…how sad that she ended in such a state…and with such a man…) He softly cleared his throat, covering his mouth with a blood stained handkerchief, ignoring the painful ache in his lungs as well as taunting whisper in the back on his mind that reminded him that before long, he would be joining the hapless young woman in death.
The taller officer glanced over at his partner's pale face, his narrow lips curling up with disdain and carefully hidden sorrow. (This cold air is going to be the death of him…) "Don't be a sentimental moron." He took a final drag of his cigarette, and then tossed the smoldering butt into the snow, watching dispassionately as the fiery cigarette fragments hissed and melted, staining the pristine snowdrift with black, wet ash. (That girl sealed her fate the second she allied herself with that murderer…)
For indeed it was a murderer that he and his partner were tracking, a cold blooded killing machine that had, in the short space of two years, wreaked bloody havoc in the Chicago underworld like no other, eliminating rival organizations with ruthless efficiency, creating the foundation for a new order of criminals, one that would prove ruinous to the city that the officer had sworn to protect. (I will not let that happen…I will find this man slayer and the men who control him and see to it that justice is served…)
Lighting another cigarette, Saitoh paused for a moment, giving his weakened partner time to catch his breath without causing any embarrassment while he mentally reviewed every aspect of their case, looking for and finding a measure of peace in his analytical introspection. (Duty before all else…) It was the code that he and his partner lived by, the reasoning behind their mutual will, the force that allowed him to hunt his prey and inspired Okita to do battle against the tuberculosis that was destroying his body, but would never defeat the small man's warrior spirit.
"Captain?" The sound of his partner's voice jarred him out of his silent introspection. "I think you should take a look at this."
"What is it Okita?" (Now who's the sentimental moron? Eh?) Slamming down his morose thoughts and instantly refocusing on the task at hand, Saitoh put out his cigarette and walked over to where the shorter officer was standing.
"Footprints." Crouching down, the policeman carefully measured the length and width of the compacted snow, his smile fading fast. "They belong to a child…I'd say….eight to ten years of age." He sighed and gently pressed his hand against the shallow prints, finding that the child's toe prints were smaller than the tips of his fingers. (Merciful Mary…the kid isn't wearing any shoes…)
"This makes no sense." Saitoh said gruffly, his amber eyes narrowing as he tracked the miniature tracks towards the grove of evergreen trees. (What in God's name would possess a child to come to a place like this?) Carefully he pulled out a pair of binoculars and began scanning the snow covered cemetery for any signs of movement. "The girl's father made no mention of having any other children."
Okita closed his eyes, his photographic memory reviewing every written line and mental snapshot of the case. "The father lied." He opened his eyes, and looked over at his partner, hiding his anger and frustration beneath a sunny smile. "Remember, when we went to the apartment to question him?" He coughed once again, wincing in pain as his blood filled lungs began to burn. "There was a blanket…in the corner of one of the bedrooms."
Saitoh swore, remembering the tenderly stitched and obviously well loved covering, a patch-worked blanket covered with orange kite appliqués. (The sort of blanket that a mother would make for her son…or a sister for her younger brother…)
"Why didn't the father tell us that his son was also missing?" Okita shook his head, appalled at the apparent lack of humanity.
"Who knows…who cares?" Saitoh shrugged, still scanning the cemetery with his binoculars. "Either way, that alcoholic bastard won't have to worry about his children after tonight."
Okita nodded. (They're either dead…or soon will be in state custody…) He glanced down at the little footprints and sighed, knowing full well that the boy who made them had probably already succumbed to the elements.
"Shit." Saitoh stiffened, his amber eyes widening with surprise. Adjusting the binoculars, he focused all of his attention on a small grove of evergreens, and the two figures struggling to emerge from the snow covered branches as well as the much larger and far more menacing men who were trailing them.
"What is it?" Okita hissed, his hand going for the holster on his hip.
"The children…they're alive." Saitoh snarled, his sharp canines gleaming in the low winter light. Rapidly, he took his gun out of the holster, checked the ammunition chambers, and then began to sprint towards the grove of trees, his face set in the sternest of scowls.
"Then what's wrong?" Okita panted as he ran after his tall partner, struggling to keep his airway open. He skidded to a stop as he heard the sound of a gun being fired, the short burst of sound at odds with the quite stillness of the cemetery.
Saitoh crouched down behind a tall tombstone as a second shot rang out in the darkness, preparing his mind and body for the battle that was sure to come. "They're not alone."
Author's Notes and Commentary:
Graceland Cemetery is one of Chicago's best-known and most historic cemeteries. It was established in 1860, originally outside city limits. The original City Cemetery was on the lake front and was considered a health hazard due to overcrowding and water-borne disease. It is said to be the most beautiful of all the cemeteries in Chicago. Ponds and paths wind around the grounds nestled amount great blossoming trees. Graceland rivals another cemetery, Oak Woods, when it comes to legends and lore.
One ghost story, the tragic tale of Inez Clark is mentioned in the Saitoh/Okita part of this chapter. (The shorter officer paused, his ageless brown eyes fixing on the glass covered statue of a little girl a short distance away) Inez Clark died in 1880 at the age of six. Her grieving parents commissioned a life-sized statue of the girl to be placed on her grave. It was completed a year later, and like many Chicago area statues, was placed inside a glass box to protect it from the elements. According to local legend, the statue of Inez will vanish from the box occasionally, especially during violent thunderstorms.
I wanted to thank you all for being so incredibly patient with me. My muse, it appears, moved to Bermuda and forgot to forward me her address. I will continue to write this and my other stories (Believe it or not, I'm actually working on an Aoshi/Misao AU) and get them posted as soon as I'm happy with the quality. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Please leave an email address so that I can personally respond to any questions or comments that you may have.
